You brought a candle,
I offered a match.
I dip my fingers into hot, melting wax.
The evidence of my mischief?
The dried remains of a once burning light
wax drips on coats
Glove fingers and cotton pants.
Oh right, my fingers were cold.
The cold got into my bones.
So deep the burning began.
Into the marrow.
Froze my blood.
Blistered my brain.
What is hot wax but a possibility to feel?
I remember cloth shoes on little sockless feet.
So numb from the fall rain.
When Papa and I finally got to the YMCA.
Alone in the women’s change room I gingerly took of my cloth shoes.
Purchased well before I knew what keds were.
I still have never held a pair.
I remember the feeling of hot water waking my childish feet from the cold.
Hot water delicious and unending
Childhood memories come back to me.
Dust covered Sailor Moon Cards.